


In memoriam

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [69]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Slavery, varying Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Summer in Campania, and Ven really needs to visit one place in particular
Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [69]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1059413
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39
Collections: 2770 ab urbe condita - the collected fiction





	In memoriam

Ven had packed everything required for a few weeks away at Master’s country villa that afternoon. cena was finished and Junio was clearing the remains of the meal away as Ven adjusted his position at his master’s direction, curling up a little on his floor cushion and resting his head on his master’s lap. He sighed quietly as Master began running his fingers through Ven’s hair, scratching his scalp affectionately.

"May I ask a question, Master?" he asked as the second ad break interrupted the TV programme his owner was watching.

"You may," his master replied, muting the TV and looking down at his slave.

"How… How close will we be to Paestum?"

"Paestum? About an hour’s drive, I think. Is there someone there you’d like to visit?"

"No. Well… sort of." Ven shifted. "I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Master."

"I am sure I can find a day you can visit Paestum, pet."

Ven settled again, a slightly sad look on his face as the ad break ended and his master put the volume back up.

* * *

It was indeed only a little over an hour’s drive from the villa to Paestum, though Ven seemed not to want to visit the town itself but nervously gave directions that led to another villa near the sea, smaller and with its own small farm. The road petered out after the villa, becoming a track and then Ven indicated an area where his master could turn the car around and park.

"I won’t be long, Master," he said again, and got out of the car before he could talk himself out of it, adjusting the strap of the rough haversack he’d brought with him. Drusus watched his slave as he walked along a path to a flat grassy area, the sort of place that people would eat picnics, if they knew of it at all. There were two or three structures to one side, near the fence, and Ven stopped by the first one, pulling his bag off.

They were columbaria, a communal place for gathering ashes, presumably those of slaves and other workers associated with the villa. Ven seemed to seek one niche in particular, and Drusus reached for his tabula with one hand as he kept his eyes on his slave. He had to look down momentarily to open his account and flick through to locate Ven’s record.

 _Identification Number:_ DOL-C87365-27450515-ROMA  
_Current registered name:_ Ven  
_Date of Birth:_ 15th May 2745  
_Where born:_ Paestum, Campania, Italia.  
_Mother:_ Marisa (died 2760)  
_Father:_ not given  
_Date of Enslavement:_ 15th May 2745  
_Reason for Enslavement:_ verna  
_First owner:_ Marius Aquila Dolabella  
_Date of first sale:_ 2nd October 2768  
_Current owner_ : Drusus Varius Metellus

He lowered the tablet and looked back to his boy. Ven had brought a small bottle of cheap wine with him and Drusus watched as he removed the lid, pouring some of its contents into the funnel set to receive such offerings, before tipping the bottle to his mouth and swallowing twice, recapping it and resting his head against the niche he had let his fingers trail over.

Most columbaria did not have individual niches dedicated to particular slaves, as these seemed to, judging by the way Ven’s fingers lingered over the plain terracotta jar stored there.

His slave seemed to be saying something, but Drusus could not make out the words.

"I brought you a honey-cake, Mama, you always liked them," Ven said quietly, a lump in his throat, his waiting master entirely forgotten for the moment. He pulled it out of his bag and unwrapped it from the paper towel it was wrapped in. "I hope you don’t mind sharing, I could only bring one." He broke it in half and dropped one part down the opening for the offerings, swallowed, and added the second half too; he thought he might choke on it if he tried to eat any of it.

"I’m sorry I took so long to come and see you, but I live in Rome now," he said. "And I have to go, my master’s waiting for me."

A gentle breeze stirred the trees and ruffled his hair as he bent for his bag, scrubbing at his eyes before turning back to the car and his waiting owner. He got in, keeping his eyes down as he set the bag down and fastened his seatbelt. 

"Thank you, Master," he said quietly. 

Drusus said nothing, clearing the tabula’s screen and handing it to Ven, who silently slipped it back into the secretary’s satchel he had also brought with him.

The journey back to the holiday villa was passed in silence, Ven’s face serious and sad as his master glanced across at him.

It was only after dinner that they spoke again. Drusus patted the sofa beside him. "Come up here, pet, and lie down."

Ven obeyed, somewhat reluctantly. His master wrapped his arm around him and started stroking his hair, in a way that was not at all sexual but reminded him too strongly of his childhood for him to keep his equilibrium, and he burst into tears, twisting to bury his head in his master’s lap as that hand (that had spanked him, fondled him, flogged him, made him come over and over) now caressed his hair soothingly.

"Whose ashes were they?" his master asked from above him, the familiar voice unfamiliar in its kindness, none of the usual snap or command in its tone.

"My… my m...m…" A sob prevented Ven from finishing the word.

Drusus snapped the fingers of his other hand, drawing the attention of the waiting house slave, whose skills were by no means as polished as Moss’ or Junio’s. 

Drusus sent him off to fetch a couple of things, and turned to the soothing quiet sounds of the nature documentary on TV as he kept stroking Ven’s hair while his tunic grew damper and damper and Ven’s shoulders shook with half-repressed sobs.

Moments later, Ven found a blanket draped over him, and a handkerchief pressed into his hand. He didn’t know how long it was before the sobs subsided, leaving him hiccuping and with a runny nose that he had to blow twice. He felt wrung out and drained as his master spoke again.

"Your mother?"

Ven hiccupped again and nodded against the warmth of his master’s side, turning the handkerchief to find a dry bit to scrub his eyes with.

"Tell me about her."

"She… she was British, Master. I don’t know how old she was when Master Marius brought her back to Italia. People said I had her eyes, though I think I looked a bit like Master Marius too. Or people said I did, I don’t know." He hiccupped again and gave a long sniff.

"She was a maid to Mistress Prisca but the master liked her, I know he ordered her to his bed several times, he did with most of the mistress’ girls." Ven shrugged; it was not at all uncommon, after all, as his own position in his current owner’s household showed.

Well, that explained the gap in Ven’s record where his father’s name would be expected. Drusus hadn’t bought him as a pedigree slave, of course; he didn’t hold with any of that and had just needed a replacement for a house slave who had bought his freedom.

"And?" he prompted gently.

Ven’s breath caught again, the way anyone’s would after sobbing as he had been doing for the past little while.

"She… she died when I was fifteen, Master. A… a stroke or something, she wasn’t _very_ old, only in her forties. And then Master and Mistress came here to Rome about five years later, with some of us, and - and - and then Master Marius died four years after that and Mistress Prisca wanted to move back to Hispania Tarraconensis, and sold the house and - everything." There had been a new boyfriend or something, but it was very soon after Master Marius’ funeral and Ven was sensible enough not to want to mention that detail.

Drusus made a sign that the lamp should be turned on and Ven started to get up but a hand on his shoulder made him subside again. It took the snap of Drusus’ fingers to bestir the house slave to step forward and press the switch - the lazy thing really wasn’t on a par with either Moss or Junio, and Drusus wondered for a moment if a spell in the house in Rome under Willow’s strict supervision would change that, though Willow had his hands full right now with the delinquent foisted on the household by Gaius Augustus. Drusus himself was here mostly for the change of scenery and to have time to study the brief prepared for him by the Imperial household to take up a position as Praetor to audit SIPAS.

A good paddling would correct the lazy house slave, at least for now, and Drusus could mete that out himself. That could wait for a bit, though. His pet’s emotional day had left him drowsy and likely to fall asleep where he was, though he roused a little as the light went on.

Drusus tucked the blanket more closely around Ven’s shoulders.

Ven snuggled into it a bit and turned to look up his master. His eyes were red and swollen from the crying he’d done and Drusus brushed a strand of hair out of his face. "I didn’t pack this, Master."

"I know."

"I’m not a child who needs…"

Drusus merely lifted an eyebrow and Ven fell silent.

It was true, of course, but generally slaves were more emotional than freeborn citizens (especially vernae such as Ven) and therefore dependent on small comforts, as children were - they were very like children in a great many ways.

"Do you feel better now, pet?"

Ven caught his lower lip between his teeth and nodded, looking down. 

"Good." Drusus patted him on the shoulder. "Up you get then, pet."

Ven scrambled up and seemed about to settle back on the cushion on the floor, until Drusus stood and indicated that his slave should come with him.

"Bring the blanket."

Ven frowned in confusion but obediently followed him to the large balnea off the master cubiculum, and folded the blanket, setting it out of the way on an empty shelf. 

"Get undressed, then."

Ven blinked, and hastily stripped, folding his tunic and setting it on top of the blanket, with his belt on the top of the pile, before turning back to his master and following the silent command to disrobe him, too. Drusus’ own tunic went into the laundry bin.

Drusus opened the sliding door to the large shower cubicle, gesturing for Ven to enter first. It was a luxurious double cubicle, tiled in green marble and with river pebbles covering the floor. The fittings were all copper, and Drusus turned on the shower. Once it was running hot, he gestured Ven to get under the spray, and reached for the shampoo.

"But…"

"Pet." Drusus injected just a hint of steel into his voice and Ven reflexively stepped under the spray in obedience. He was a good boy, really, a very obedient slave. The house slave here could stand to learn a similar sort of obedience, doing what his master said immediately and without quibbling. Drusus only allowed Ven the laxness he showed on occasion because he was so good normally, and he’d had a trying day today.

He lathered Ven’s hair for him, enjoying the confusion on his pet’s face and the slight catch of breath as he began to speak before catching himself and falling silent.

He rinsed Ven’s hair off, trying to keep the shampoo from getting into his eyes, although he could not altogether succeed, and had to wet a washcloth for his pet to hold over his face as the last of the lather was rinsed out. Once that was done, he reached for the bottle of shower gel to wash the rest of his pet’s body, his hands running possessively over him from his shoulders to his chest to his belly and back and further down. He brushed over his pet’s cock, fondled his dangling testicles (eliciting a gasp and sudden shift of the feet) and moved down his legs, enjoying the feel of silky smooth skin.

"Turn around and put your hands on the wall there," he directed, not hiding the smile that came to his face as a small frown creased Ven’s brows before he did so, allowing his master to soap his back and trail wet hands down to that luscious bum. Ven jerked as a light finger ran down from the base of his spine to the dimple right above the crack, which Drusus knew was a slightly ticklish erogenous zone for his pet. 

"Stay there, though you can spread your feet further apart," Drusus directed, and began to wash himself, his movements quick and economical, although he enjoyed the view presented to him.

It really was a luscious arse, a good size to be groped or spanked - he’d have to do that some time, of course, but not tonight, not after everything.

"All right, pet, get a towel and dry me off," he ordered, finally shutting off the water.

Ven obeyed, finding a clean towel and reaching to rub his master dry, shivering a little as cool air met his own wet nakedness.

Once Drusus was dry, he pulled on the fresh sleep-tunic that had been laid out for him, and a bathrobe, directing Ven to dry himself off before wrapping himself in his blanket again.

Ven found himself cuddled up with his master, his head against his master’s chest and his master’s arm around him, his hands cradling a mug of hot chocolate and something distracting and fluffy on the TV. Ven’s attention was less on the TV than on the fire, which was a plasma fire set on low thanks to the cool evening, the dancing flickering colours hypnotic and soothing.

"Master," he said into the quiet as the credits began.

"Yes?"

"I’m… I’m sorry, for being such a nuisance, today."

His master’s hand found the edge of the blanket and slipped under it to Ven’s otherwise bare chest. "I am responsible for my slaves’ well-being. I think, overall, it has been good for you - and if you say any more on the subject, I will gag you."

Ven nodded and subsided, drowsily watching the dancing plasma patterns of the fire as the next episode of his owner’s show began.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> cena - dinner  
> columbaria - plural form of columbarium. The word means dovecote, but was used to describe a place for the ashes of the deceased, which was so named because the niches for the funerary urns made it look like a dovecote.  
> tabula - tablet computer (the word originally referred to the wax writing tablets used by the Romans)  
> Hispania Tarraconensis - a province in modern-day Spain  
> vernae - plural of verna, someone born into slavery. The word originally referred to a slave born into the household he served in.  
> balnea - bathroom  
> cubiculum - bedroom


End file.
